Match Your Weakness With A Name

Six? This Is Just Getting Ridiculous.

It is Wednesday and Jenna and I are sorting papers when Derek walks into the office.

"Hey, my friend's throwing a party at seven tonight," he says. "You two down?"

Jenna narrows her eyes. "What kind of party?"

"His parents won't be home," says Derek with a smirk.

"Yeah, I'll go," says Jenna, and I find myself nodding.

"You're in too, Geoff?" says Derek.

"Yes. I am," I clarify. "What's the address?"

"Here," he says, flicking a slip of paper at me.

"Uh, that's convenient," I say. "Thanks."

"Hey, I figured you'd want to hang with hot chicks," he says.

I repress a smile and say, "I'm a bit picky, but hot is hot."

"Great. It'll be chill," he says. "You might get laid." He sings the word "laid," dragging it out.

"Um, no," I say, and him and Jenna laugh.

"Well, I got a floor to scrub. See you bros tonight," says Derek, and he leaves the office. Jenna and I glance at each other and return to our paperwork.

Nothing else interesting happens until seven, when I pull up at the address Derek gave me. There are already cars parked outside. I spot Jenna getting out of one of those cars, and reassure myself I am in fact in the right place.

The house isn't crowded, but there are several people clustered together, socializing and laughing. There is music playing. Whoever chose the music has no taste whatsoever. It is a relatively normal party, until I spot Zakk.

Zakk. Him. The one person I thought wouldn't leave me after what happened last summer. He is standing in the center of the largest cluster, all eyes drawn to him. I recall he was always like that, always so charismatic. Maybe that's why I trusted him.

I stand in the doorway, awkwardly waiting for someone to notice me, and praying that someone isn't Zakk.

As fate would have it, it is.

He looks up from his friends and meets my eyes, flashing me his brilliant Zakk smile. I pretend not to recognize him, or at least I try until he calls out my name. "Yo, Geoff!"

"Hi," I mutter. Everyone he was talking to now is staring at me.

"Well, why are you standing there?" he says. "Come on over!"

Hesitantly, I walk to him and stop at a safe distance, but he grabs me by the shoulders and pulls me closer. I flinch, but he doesn't let go.

"Bros, this is my dude. We're tight," he says, and by now I would like nothing more than to feed him to a large swarm of piranhas. Not only is he touching me, but he is pretending everything is all right between us-like he didn't fuck my best friend while I was in a mental hospital.

"Uh, not really," I say, shaking him off me.

"Aw, what's up?" he says, and I sigh.

"Don't pretend you don't know, " I snap.

"Oh, look, he's still neurotic," he says. I want to tell him to go fuck himself, but I have a little restraint.

"Nah, I'm just..." Fuck. I can't think of a comeback. And there are like six people staring at me.

"Enough of this shit," he says. "How've you been, my man?"

"Uh, I'm not 'your man'," I say, "and exactly the same."